


The Blacksmith and The Prince

by rubberglue



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-17
Updated: 2012-05-17
Packaged: 2017-11-05 13:08:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/406702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubberglue/pseuds/rubberglue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once upon a time, there was a young prince and a young blacksmith. And one day, they cross paths but nothing ever goes smoothly in a fairy tale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Blacksmith and The Prince

**Author's Note:**

> This story was inspired by the movie Ever After and written for jontinf (on LJ) aka longjackets (on tumblr). Unbeta-ed so please forgive the typos and errors.

_“I want to hear that story again mother,” The young mother smiled as she eased her heavily pregnant body onto the bed, next to her young son._

_“Again? Then you’ll go to bed?”_

_“Yes. I promise.”_

_She reached out and pulled her son to her, ruffling his hair before pressing a kiss on the top of his head. As he snuggled into her embrace, she started her story, a story she had told many times._

_“Once upon a time, there was a young prince. Like all young men who had everything he ever wanted, he was confident, arrogant and selfish. But all that would change one day.”_

+++

Arthur stretched and yawned as he slowly woke up. Glancing around his room, he noted that everything looked the same as they did yesterday which meant nothing had changed in his life. He sighed.

Footsteps echoed outside and Arthur started his countdown.

5 … 4 … 3 … 2 …

Sure enough, Rob stepped into the room just as he mentally said “one”.

“Sire, I have brought your breakfast.” Rob dipped into a bow, carefully holding the platter of food in his right hand so that it didn’t spill.

“Isn’t there some other way you can do this?” Arthur dragged himself from his bed and threw himself quite ungraciously into his chair.

Placing the platter gently onto the table, then draping the napkin across Arthur’s lap, Rob replied the same way he always did. “I would be glad to do it in any manner you prefer Sire.”

Huffing, Arthur poked at the bread and meat on his platter. “Well, I don’t know. Everyday is the same isn’t it? Don’t you ever get bored?”

“No, my lord. I feel extremely fortunate to be working for -”

Arthur waved his hand to shut Rob up. As much as he enjoyed praise, hearing the same words every morning was getting on his nerves.

“What’s on the schedule for today - no, let me guess, training with the knights, knights try outs, council meeting. Any feasts today? Any monsters needing slaying?” At least the meat was good - that was something he didn’t really mind staying the same.

“No, Sire. Just dinner with your father.”

Great. Dinner alone with his father. That should be a barrel of fun. Yesterday’s dinner was so fun he had to stop himself from stabbing himself with a fork, especially when his father went into yet another life lesson he wanted his son to learn. Arthur once tried to point out that he might learn more about life if he was allowed to actually have a life but his father simply talked over him. The worst was how all the “life lessons” were essentially variations of the message “be more like me”.

He watched as Rob took out his clothes for the day. It was the second day of the week so that meant his red linen shirt.

“Your red shirt Sire?” Rob held it out.

“I think the blue today.”

Rob frowned and didn’t move. “But Sire, today is the second day of -”

Arthur sighed. “Right, right. The red shirt it is then.”

+++

By the time evening rolled around, Arthur was bored stiff. It didn’t help that his sister Morgana was off visiting some kingdom in the North. At least when she was around, there was somebody to talk to, even if all she did was make fun of him.

Training in the morning wasn’t too bad. A couple new recruits had joined and it was pretty fun to put them in their places. But after that was lunch with the council (terrible and tedious), then his father insisted that he go through some petitions from the various Lords and sort them out (boring)and when that was done, Arthur was scheduled to visit the middle and lower town to check on his people (slightly more interesting but still tedious). 

The lower town was a bustle of activity as usual. As the sun set, merchants dragged their wares home, workers chatted as they walked along the streets, waving to others and children played at being knights on the streets. All of them stopped to bow to their crown prince. Briefly, Arthur wondered at what it would be like to live like them - to not have his life dictated by his title, to have the freedom to do whatever he wanted. He could be a farmer or a mercenary. Or maybe even a blacksmith, he thought as a young lady, curls covering her face, caught his eye. She was dressed like many young village ladies, in a yellow cotton shift, but there she stood, legs apart, hammering resolutely away at the piece of metal she had on the anvil. There was grace in her strength and Arthur stopped to watch her. How had he never noticed her before?

Right on cue, Sir George spoke up. “Sire, the sun has almost set. It is time to return to the castle.”

“We can stay out a while more.” For some reason, he wanted to continue watching the blacksmith.

“Your father will not be pleased. He expects you back for dinner and council.”

Sighing, Arthur tore his eyes from the lady and turned back to the castle.”Alright. Let’s go.”

++++

In a strange twist of events, Arthur acquired a new manservant. One he didn’t like very much actually, but like everything in his life, he didn't have a choice. Apparently, saving the life of the crown prince was worth a promotion to being his manservant. It was one thing to reward the person who saved his life, but Arthur wondered why he had to be punished at the same time.

"You're not very good at this whole manservant thing, are you?" Arthur watched with a mix of exasperation and mild amusement at Merlin (what sort of name was that) struggled with preparing the morning meal. The bread rolled off the platter onto the floor, Merlin almost sliced off his finger as he cut the meat and when everything was finally done, his breakfast platter looked like someone had massacred a pheasant. 

"Sorry. Don't usually have meat for any meals." 

"Sire."

Merlin rolled his eyes but dutifully tacked on the honorific, "Sire."

"You do realise I could send you to the stocks for such impertinence." Arthur waved his fork in the air to emphasise his point.

"You could." Merlin replied absently. "Er, sire. So it's the fifth day of the week. You're supposed to wear the brown linen shirt." Merlin rummaged roughly through Arthur's wardrobe. 

"I want to wear the white one."

"Ok. Whatever you want, sire. Here you go!" With a flourish, Merlin whipped out the white shirt from the wardrobe and waved it slightly in triumph. "I've prepared your bath, laid out breakfast and taken out your clothes. What else is there?"

Arthur frowned, his mouth full of food. This was precisely why Merlin was an awful servant. Rob knew exactly what needed doing. Merlin kept waiting for prompts. Sometimes (a lot of times actually), Arthur would forget that Rob even existed. He doubted that was possible with Merlin.

"Stables, armor and training."

"Ah right my lord. So."

"So? Do them?"

"I would if I knew what to do." A pause before Merlin hastily added, "Sire."

++++

Merlin was the only manservant Arthur ever had who walked beside him. Despite several reminders that he should, as a manservant, walk a few steps behind, Merlin somehow always ended up by his side. Merlin also apparently seemed to think they were friends.

“It’s been a week and your schedule is always the same. Don’t you find it boring?” Yet again, as they walked through the streets of the lower town, Merlin chattered away. By now, Arthur knew Merlin’s opinion of the various types of bread sold by the baker in the middle town, what Merlin thought was lacking in the tavern and why hunting was terribly unnecessary and cruel. No amount of feigned disinterest or “shut up Merlin” kept him from talking for long. Not when he had an opinion to share.

It was oddly nice.

“It is my duty as prince.”

“That is true. We all have our roads in life, don’t we? Paths that lead us to our destiny, as much as we might be reluctant to walk them. There’s always something bigger. A destiny.”

“What on earth are you going on about now?” Arthur snapped. “The only destiny you have is to do what I tell you to.”

Merlin shook his head and looked at Arthur as if he had forgotten Arthur was there. “Yes. Of course, my lord.”

“You are a strange one, Merlin.”

They were near the end of the lower town, where the smithy was. Arthur looked around, hoping to catch sight of the blacksmith again but she was nowhere to be found. He hadn’t much luck since that day some weeks ago despite his best efforts and that was oddly disappointing. He wasn’t very keen on all these odd feelings he was having nowadays. 

“Are you looking for someone?” Merlin looked curiously at him and then the smithy.

“No.”

“But you obviously are. We’ve been standing here -”

“Shut up, Merlin.”

++++

Arthur couldn’t believe he agreed to this. Here he was, the crown prince of Camelot, skulking around in the forest, waiting for his most irresponsible manservant. Somehow, Merlin had persuaded him that a trip to the forest would be fun and freeing. Frankly he couldn’t see how, especially when Merlin was missing. He had to admit that he was getting used to this strange manservant of his, so much so that when Merlin went missing for a day, he almost missed him. 

Almost. 

He didn’t really miss his manservant because that would mean he was fond of Merlin. And he wasn’t fond of Merlin because Merlin was the kind of useless servant who would leave him stranded in the forest after promising him a day of freedom.

“Come any closer and I will hurt you.”

Startled out of this thoughts, Arthur stared at the person in front of him. She barely came up to his chin, was armed with only a small knife and yet she was threatening him. 

“Are you mad? Why are you threatening me?”

She raised the knife higher and said, “Don’t think I didn’t notice you following me.”

“I wasn’t following you!”

“And why should I believe you? Who wears a cloak and wanders around the forest aimlessly? And I’ve been watching you for a while already.” Only the slight tremble in her arm suggested she wasn’t as confident as she looked. 

He raised his arms, hoping the gesture would calm her. “This is just a misunderstanding. You see, I was just waiting for my ser … my friend. He’s late.” Now that he was looking at her closely, he realised who she was. She was the blacksmith - the dress and her curls gave her away. His heart jumped.

“I’m erm, Rob. Uh, I am supposed to be picking herbs with Merlin but he’s not here yet and I was just waiting for him. I mean you no harm.” 

She watched him suspiciously for a while then lowered the knife. “Alright. I believe you. Sorry about the misunderstanding but one can never be too careful in the forest.”

“Why are you in the forest?”

“Escaping from the madness at home.” A sad smile crossed her face and Arthur felt a sudden urge to comfort her. Of course this was when Merlin decided to make his appearance.

“Sire! Sire!” Panting, Merlin scampered towards them. “Sorry I’m late.”

The blacksmith stared at him, then turned to Merlin. “Sire?”

“Yeah, he insists that I call him sire. Or my lord. Protocol.” Merlin replied flippantly. "I'm Merlin by the way."

Reaching out her hand, she pushed the hood off his face. “You’re Prince Arthur.” Her voice cooled and she dropped into a curtsy. “I apologise for my actions before. Please forgive me.”

“Oh! What did you do?” 

“Shut up, Merlin! You do not have to apologise. It was merely a misunderstanding.” 

“Thank you, my lord. If you do not mind, I shall take my leave now.” Without waiting for his answer, she turned and left.

“Huh.”

“Merlin -”

“Shut up?”

++++

She was late home and her step-sister Rosalind had been furious. It took a lot of effort for Gwen to stand there quietly and allow Rosalind to berate her but if she didn’t, Rosalind would complain to her father and she couldn’t have that. 

“I want the forge cleaned out, the house is in a mess as well so once you’re done with the forge, you should clean up the house. Also, mother wants father to have fresh bread for dinner tonight.” Gwen bit her lip when Rosalind said the word “father”. Rosalind had never cared for Gwen’s father, using him only to get Gwen to do things. Gritting her teeth, Gwen nodded. Only a thin wall separated Gwen and Rosalind from her father and Gwen didn’t want him to hear them quarrel.

“I’ll get right to it.”

“Oh, and with the tournament in a week’s time, there’s a bunch of orders for sharpening and new swords. We should make quite a tidy sum this week.” Carelessly, Rosalind tossed the list of orders at Gwen before walking off.

Guinevere didn’t bother to answer. Once Rosalind left, she darted over to the next room where her father was.

Kneeling by her ailing father’s bedside, she asked, “How are you today?”

“Gwen, my darling daughter. Has Rosalind been bullying you again?” Her father lifted a trembling hand to cup her face. “I am so sorry.”

“Oh dad. It’s nothing. She’s accustomed to a certain lifestyle. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“I love you Guinevere. If only Elyan -”

Quickly, she hushed her father. “No. Don’t. Elyan’s leaving isn’t your fault and Florence made you happy.” 

“But -”

“Dad. I just want you not to worry, rest and get better. For me?”

His grip on her hand was weak but she felt it tighten slightly. Holding back her tears, she rested her head on the bed as her father stroked her hair. 

++++

Sweat rolled down her temple as she heated the metal. With the Royal Tournament upon them, the demand for swords had increased and loath as she was to admit it, Rosalind was right. There would be extra money this month and hopefully, it would be enough to get the royal physician down to see her father. 

“Hello!”

Gwen turned and saw a skinny man standing at the entrance of the smithy, grinning and waving at her. Placing the metal carefully down, she walked over to him.

“I’m sorry but we’re not taking any more orders.” There was something familiar about him and she stared at him. “Oh! You’re the prince’s servant!”

“I am. I’m Merlin.”

“Well, with the tournament, we’re swamped with orders and we just can’t handle anymore.”

“That’s a pity. The prince was hoping to commission a sword.”

“What about the royal smith?”

“Uh - well. He’s busy?”

Gwen frowned. Nothing was making sense. “But surely the prince’s orders would take precedence?”

“He’s heard of the quality of your work and wishes to have a piece crafted by you.”

“I see.” Gwen didn’t believe a word. She had only recently taken over the forge from her father since his illness. How would the prince hear anything?

Merlin shrugged. “He’s not used to being turned down.”

“If I make a sword for him, what will he pay?”

“What is your price?”

“A physician. For my father.”

“Is he sick?” Concern tinged Merlin’s voice.

“Very. Old Martha’s herbs have done nothing to help. I’m afraid he doesn’t have much time left and he is in a lot of pain. If the prince will send his physician, I will make the sword he wants.” Tears pricked her eyes and she took a deep breath, willing herself not to cry, not in front of someone she barely knew.

“It’s a deal. I’ll get Gaius to come down immediately.” And before she could thank him, Merlin rushed off. For the first time in weeks, Gwen felt a tiny burst of hope.

++++

True to his word, Merlin brought Gaius, the royal physician, to her house the very next morning. Tension filled the tiny room as she stood with Merlin while Gaius examined her father. Merlin grabbed her hand and whispered that everything would be alright. It had been a while since she had anyone to lean on and she held his hand gratefully. 

“Guinevere, your father is seriously ill and I don’t think there is anything we can do. I can give him some herbs to ease the pain. I’m sorry.”

Gwen stared at the physician in shock. Gwen stared at her father, lying on the bed, breathing heavily. Whatever hope she had slowly died. The physician nodded his head and left.

“Gwen.” She felt Merlin touch her shoulder. Dashing the tears from her face, she turned to him.

“Thank you for what you did. I’ll make sure that the prince’s sword is ready soon.”

Merlin looked intently at her for a moment before answering. “Give me some time alone with your father.”

“Why?”

“Just trust me. Please.”

The minutes passed slowly and Gwen wondered what Merlin was doing inside with her father. Why did she allow someone she barely knew to do this? As time passed, Gwen became increasingly panicky. Just as she was about to barge back into the room, Merlin opened the door, a slight smile on his face.

“I think your father will be fine.” 

Gwen peered over Merlin’s shoulder at her father, then back at Merlin.

“What did you do?”

“It’s probably best you don’t know. I should go. Go see your father.” Merlin nodded towards her father. “Let me know when the sword is ready.”

Gwen rushed to her father’s bedside. His eyes opened slowly and he looked at her. “Guinevere. What happened? The pain in my heart, it’s gone.”

Unable to hold back her tears anymore, Gwen simply let herself cry.

++++

“To be quite honest, my lord. This plan of yours isn’t particularly good.”

Arthur continued to read the petition in front of him.

“I mean, you commission a sword from her but I don’t quite see how that allows you to meet her. You’ve never actually done anything like this before have you?”

Did Merlin think he was that thick he didn’t realise his plan was somewhat lacking? That he didn’t actually think it through properly? “I’m the prince of Camelot. I do not have to answer to the likes of you!” Arthur declared in what he thought was his most princely tone.

Merlin burst into laughter, laughing so hard he doubled over. By now, Arthur was used to Merlin’s oddness so he just sighed deeply before returning to his work. As he looked over the petition in his hand, he sighed again. Lord Merek wanted a new well. Lady Anne asked for more knights as a result of an increase in bandit activity around her lands. This was such tedious work, trying to keep the nobles happy.

“You might find today’s schedule interesting though.” Merlin had finally regained control of himself. “After lunch with your father and the council and your training with the knights, your father wants you to pay a visit to the town and see if there are any major repairs that need to be made since the storm yesterday.”

“Huh.”

“Oh I can already hear the excitement in your voice.”

“Go feed the hunting dogs Merlin.”

“Shall I pick up some flowers for you?”

Arthur grabbed a cushion and tossed it at his grinning manservant. 

++++

The council spent most of lunch debating an increase in taxes. Only half listening, Arthur picked at his food and wondered if he would see the blacksmith during his walk later. 

“An increase in taxes will only over-burden our people!” 

“The people cannot expect us to keep looking after them without recompense. Who pays for the knights’ upkeep? Who pays for the torches we keep burning past nightfall?”

If she was at the smithy, perhaps he would speak to her, ask her about his sword. He smiled at the thought.

“I take it you agree with the tax increase Arthur?” 

“Oh, yes. Of course.” Arthur nodded.

“It’s settled. I’ll send the guards to inform the people immediately,” said King Uther. “In more exciting news, I’ve been speaking to King Godwyn and we’ve decided that an alliance will be to both our benefit.”

Maybe his plan wasn’t as foolish as Merlin made it out to be. He wasn’t quite sure why he found her so fascinating. It might be the way she wielded that hammer the first time he saw her. Or it might be the way she confronted him in the forest. Whatever it was, she couldn’t stop thinking about her.

“ - and so I have arranged for you two to marry.”

“Marry!” Dragged from his thoughts, Arthur spluttered. “Who?”

“Princess Elena of course. King Godwyn’s daughter. Haven’t you been listening to a word I said?”

“I’ve never even met her.” 

Uther waved his hand dismissively. “That is not important. She will be here for the tournament ball. You will meet her then.”

“And what if I don’t like her?” 

“Then you learn to like her. Now, shall we discuss the new farming regulations?” Arthur glared balefully at his father. 

++++

His arranged marriage weighed heavily on his mind as he and Merlin trudged through the muddy path in the middle of town. 

“You’re deep in thought. Thinking of Gwen?”

“Who?”

“The blacksmith. Don’t you know her name?”

He stopped walking. “Merlin, do you think that there is only one perfect mate in the world?”

“Yup. And maybe yours is Gwen.” Merlin teased, grinning. 

“Well then how you can be certain to find them? And if you do find them, are they really the one for you or do you only think they are? And what happens if the person you're supposed to be with never appears, or, or she does, but you're too distracted to notice?”

“What brought this on?”

“My father has arranged for me to marry some princess.”

That stopped Merlin from smiling. “Oh. Well then.”

“What if she isn’t my perfect mate? What if my perfect mate is somewhere out there and I marry this princess instead?”

“Then perhaps you need to fight for your perfect mate. You can’t expect fate to simply deliver her to your lap.”

“That may be the smartest thing I’ve heard you say.”

“That’s because you don’t listen too well. We should continue on, my lord.”

Arthur nodded absently as Merlin’s words swam in his head. A commotion somewhere further down interrupted his thoughts and they hurried over. Two guards and an old man were standing in the middle of the circle of people squabbling. The old man had apparently been arrested and his wife was crying and holding on to the arm of one of the guards who was trying to fling her off.

“What is the problem here?” Arthur pushed his way through.

“This man cursed the King, my lord. We are bringing him to face punishment.”

“What did he say?”

“He said the King was selfish and uncaring and he hoped the King would die an early death.”

To his side, Arthur was aware of the man’s wife crying and begging for leniency. While he felt slightly bad, it was law that any insult to the King be punished. Shaking his head, he told the guards to take him back to the castle.

“Wait! Why don’t you ask him why he said that.” That voice. Turning his head, Arthur saw the blacksmith standing defiantly in front of his guards. “Please my lord. Ask him why he said that.”

Arthur hesitated for a moment. How would he look, yielding to a blacksmith’s wishes. But everybody’s eyes were on him. “Why did you say that?”

For a moment, the old man said nothing. “Fine. You had your chance. Take him -”

“Sire. I was angry because of the raising of taxes. My store takes in little enough. We can barely feed ourselves. If you raise our taxes, we'll starve."

"Your taxes pay for the protection provided by the knights, the upkeep of the common areas and -"

The blacksmith spoke up again. "We know what our taxes pay for. You just raised taxes a month ago. Is it really necessary?"

It was a question he had never asked before. When the council said to raise taxes, he always assumed that there was a good reason behind it. 

She was still talking. "You put us in a difficult position and then punish us when we vent our anger. He is an old man. Do you really think he is a real threat to the King? It is bad enough that you are raising our taxes. Must you do this to him as well?"

"She's right," Merlin whispered. 

Arthur looked around. People were alternating between staring at him and at the blacksmith. Silence reigned and all he could hear was his heartbeat. Everyone was waiting for him to make a decision. The old man's wife was still sobbing quietly, he stood slumped held by the guards and the blacksmith stared angrily at him. He gulped.

"Release him. I'll take responsibility for this." 

Immediately, the guards let go of the man who went straight to his wife. Slowly the crowd dispersed, leaving him, Merlin and the blacksmith. 

"Ahem, I think I'm just going to stand over there. Just by that house." And then it was just him and the blacksmith.

"I didn't get your name that day." The moment the words left his mouth, he groaned inwardly. He knew her name. What kind of foolish statement was that?

"It's Guinevere, although most people call me Gwen."

"Guinevere," he repeated her name, liking the way it rolled off his tongue. "I'm Arthur."

"I am aware of that, my lord. Thank you for releasing Joseph. I would thank you more if you could do something about the raise in taxes."

"The money is needed."

"Is there no other way? Do you not know how much this hurts us? Do you not talk to your people?"

"I've no reason to." And that was exactly the wrong thing to say. 

"Seeing that a good King should be a servant to his people, you might want to rethink that position, my lord. I have to go now. Your sword will be ready soon. I will let Merlin now." She curtsied. "My lord."

"But -" He watched as she walked away from him, disappointment weighing in his chest.

++++

Gwen thought it was lucky she wasn't currently sitting in the dungeons of the castle after her little outburst at the prince although that might have been preferable to the lecture she was currently receiving from Florence. 

"Why did you not introduce your sister to the prince? She is prettier, has so much more grace than you and is more suited to be his companion than you. Look at you. You're filthy from working at the forge, you speak rudely to the prince and you have no idea how to dress like a lady."

"Why would the prince even consider a commoner as a wife? He doesn't even bother to talk to us."

"I said companion. I didn't say wife."

Gwen shook her head and sighed. 

"All that time you spent defending that silly, old man, you could have spent in the forge finishing up the orders for the tournament. Don't forget that Rosalind needs a new dress as well."

"I won’t. I'm going to see Dad and then I will start work."

"Don't spend too much time with him. I don't like it when you use him to avoid your duties."

Childishly, when Florence turned her back, she stuck out her tongue.

After checking on her father who was doing much better, but still too weak to leave his bed for long, Gwen headed for the forge. Humming to herself, she worked on sharpening a few swords and hammering out some horse shoes. It late in the evening when she finally continued work on the prince’s sword. Her tools were no where as good as those from the castle smithy but she was determined that the sword she made for the prince would not pale in comparison to those made by the royal smith.

By the time she crawled into her bedroll on the kitchen floor, it was early the next morning.

++++

The castle was bigger than she remembered and she stared at it from the courtyard. Her fingers curled around the sword and she took a deep breath before climbing the stairs to the main entrance.

“Who goes there?”

“I have a delivery for Merlin.”

The guard looked suspiciously at her for a while before informing her to wait. As he disappeared past the huge doors, she continued her examination of the castle. Intricate carving decorated the doors and would have taken great skill and a lot of time to do. She wondered what it was like to live a life of such pleasure, such privilege - to not have to worry about food or money or safety. Perhaps that was why Florence and Rosalind were so keen to catch the eye of a noble. 

“Gwen! Why are you here?” Merlin clattered down the stairs, smiling happily at her. She grinned back at him. Over the past week, he had visited often at the forge and they had struck up a tentative friendship. She liked his positive attitude and the stories he told her about life in the castle. He seemed to enjoy her company too. “It’s nice to be around normal people,” he had said. Once or twice, she asked him about how he healed her father but she soon learned that it was a surefire way to get Merlin to close down on her. 

“I’ve finished the prince’s sword.” 

“Oh! That’s great. Hey, why don’t you pass it to him yourself. He’s reading some policy documents. I’m sure he’ll welcome the distraction.”

“Oh I couldn’t. I’m sure he is very busy with important stuff.” Instinctively, she backed away. Her heart had sped up and she just knew that seeing the prince again would be a bad idea. 

Merlin took her hand. “Come on. He’s not that scary. I’m sure he’ll like to thank you in person.”

“Well, I’ve always wanted to see the inside of the castle.”

If she thought the exterior of the castle was lavish, the interiors were even more luxurious. Gently, she ran her hand along the cold marble columns, admired the gorgeous tapestry that hung along the walls and fresh flowers in beautiful porcelain vases that peppered the corridors. 

“You get used to all these quite easily,” laughed Merlin as she stopped to examine a marble bust. 

“Oh, I don’t think I could ever get used to such opulence.”

They reached a set of doors and Merlin paused. “Here we are. I’ll announce you.”

“You’ll come in with me?” Her nerves started to build. She could barely control her mouth on a normal day. What if she insulted the prince?

“Oh no. I should be cleaning out the stables.” Merlin winked at her. “You’ll be fine. Promise. Trust me?”

Gwen nodded and took a deep breath as the doors opened.

++++

“Hi.” That the prince looked as nervous as she felt calmed her down slightly. 

“My lord. I’ve brought your sword. I hope that it doesn’t disappoint.”

His fingers brushed against hers as he took the sword and she shivered at his touch. “I’m sure it wouldn’t.”

The prince swung the sword a little to test the balance, then he examined the blade. Gwen stood awkwardly and watched. Having grown up in the smithy, Gwen had seen many swordsmen - fledgling knights, tournament competitors and mercenaries. Many of them would show off their moves in the the small yard they had, especially after Rosalind arrived. None of them had the grace or the fluidity of the prince. 

“Brilliant. This is brilliant.” Pride swelled in her. He wasn’t saying that to please her because he was staring in amazement at the sword. All those late nights suddenly seemed worth it. Dragging his eyes from the sword, he looked at her, smiling, “You’re brilliant. Maybe I should sack my royal smith and hire you instead.”

For some reason, that seemed to break the tension in the room. “I am sure your blacksmith is much more skillful.” She replied modestly. “I’ve heard much of the workmanship of the royal smithy. It’s almost legendary.”

“Legendary?”

“Yes. We hear of it but never see it in person.”

“Well then. Let me remedy that.” He stretched out his arm, palms open. She placed her hand in his, feeling a flush build in her and wondering if he could hear her beating heart.

In silence, she followed as the prince led her to what she assumed was the armoury. “Every sword ever made by the royal smith is here. Take a look.”

Dropping the prince’s hand, she looked around the room, awestruck by the sheer amount of weapons housed in it. Swords gleamed at her, tempting her to touch them, to examine the workmanship. A question in her eyes, she looked at the prince who was watching her, a smile on his face.

“You look like you are about to cry. Pick one.”

“I could no sooner choose a favourite star in heaven.” The words came out on a sigh, filled with a sense of wonder.

The prince moved towards her and gently lifted her chin. “What is it that moves you so?”

“I suppose it is because when I was young, I would follow my father into the smithy and he would let me help him forge swords and horseshoes. He put a small bed in the corner of the smithy so that when I was tired, I could sleep there and be near him. I would fall asleep to the sounds of his hammering and the smell of hot metal. He was so proud of every sword he made. He loved every one of them and I loved them too. Even now, although he is ill, I can still feel him with me as I work.”

For a moment, neither of them moved. The prince gazed at her and she found herself unable to look away. He was the first to move, dragging his thumb lightly over her cheek. 

“You are extraordinary. I don’t believe I’ve met anyone like you.”

“I’ve never properly met a prince either.”

“No. I would think not.” Somehow, the gap between them had closed and she could feel his breath against her face. 

Time slowed and although her brain shouted at her to move away, Gwen simply stared at the prince as he lowered his lips to hers. Her eyes closed. Maybe it was because she was in an unfamiliar place. Or maybe it was because he was the crown prince of Camelot. It was a kiss like no other, sweet, pleading, hungry. 

She broke the kiss, pulling away, not without regret. But he was Prince Arthur. She shouldn’t be kissing him.

“I need to go. There is a lot of work that has to be done.” Turning away, she walked as calmly as she could to the door. 

“Guinevere.”

“This was a mistake, my lord.” Pushing open the door, she slipped into the corridor.

“Can I see you again?”

She continued to walk, willing herself not to turn around.

“Please? I’ll be at the forest, where we first met, tomorrow morning.”

She turned and looked at him and against her better judgement nodded her head. “Maybe. I’ll try to be there.”

“Ok. Good. I’ll wait for you.”

As she scurried down the corridor to the main doors of the castle, she wondered what on earth she was doing.

++++

“ -and so, I hope you can see Arthur, just how important it is to have a tight grip on your people, the way I do now. Give them too much freedom and they will demand even more.”

“Yes father.” He pushed his food around on the plate, his mind filled with Guinevere. Since the moment she left, he couldn’t stop thinking about her and now, seated at dinner with his father and some of the other lords, he thought of what she said about the taxes. “Father, why are we raising taxes again so soon after the last raise? I heard that the raised taxes are quite the burden on the people.”

The chatter at the table paused and he felt like all eyes were on him. “I thought you agreed with the decision?”

“I did but I was in the lower town yesterday and I realised that the people will suffer with yet another increase. The storms already mean less business for many of the merchants.”

“It is precisely because of these storms that we need to raise taxes. There are repairs that need to be done.”

“Then we are just punishing the people twice and it’s not like our reserves are running out. I had Merlin bring me the records this morning.”

Uther studied him suspiciously and for a brief moment, Arthur regretted bringing any of this up. “You are not here to please your subjects.”

“Neither are we here to make life difficult for them.” 

“Well, then. What do you suggest?”

Arthur looked around the table, at the council and his father, all of whom were looking at him doubtfully. “I suggest we don’t raise the taxes. Not now. We still have reserves which we can tap on. Let the people recover from the storms and then we can decide if we need to replenish the reserves with more taxes.”

When no one said anything, Arthur felt his heart sink. Perhaps he should have spoken to his father alone, instead of defying him in front of the council.

“Alright then. You make a fair point. We will suspend the raising of taxes for now. When the reserves dips to below half of what it has now, we will reinstate it. Now, enough talk of kingdom matters.”

To Arthur’s amazement, it actually felt good doing this. 

++++

Dark clouds gathered in the sky but even that could not dampen his mood. After making some excuse for not being around for training, he and Merlin had slipped off into the forest. 

“This is all so romantic - clandestine meetings in the forest -”

“Shut up Merlin. We don’t want to attract attention.”

It felt like a very long wait but finally, they heard footsteps and then Guinevere turned up.

“Hey Merlin, my lord.” 

“Hey Gwen! How was your day?” Merlin went bounding up to her, like a big dog. For a while, the three of them chatted about everything and nothing but soon, Arthur was feeling a little annoyed. He had planned to spend some time alone with Guinevere, and he had made that pretty clear to Merlin and yet, his silly manservant was still hanging around, discussing chicken with her.

He cleared his throat.

“Want some water Arthur?” 

He frowned at Merlin. “No, I don’t want water.”

“Good because I think I might have drank it all.”

What, Arthur wondered, would Guinevere think if he killed his hopeless, rude manservant. He didn’t think she would understand.

“Don’t you have chores to do?”

“No, you said that - oh. Oh chores! Yes, yes. I have chores to do. Lots of chores. In fact, I’m off to do my chores now. Goodbye Gwen! I’ll see you around.”

Arthur kept an eye on Merlin until he finally disappeared from sight. Amusement danced in Guinevere eyes and he could tell she was trying not to laugh.

“Too obvious?”

“Possibly. I am flattered though. I am just a commoner. And you, my lord, are the crown prince.”

“You are not just a commoner. You are a talented, hard working blacksmith with a better heart than me.”

The blush that stained her cheeks pleased him and when he took her hand, she said nothing. Under the canopy of trees, it felt like they were in their own world.

“Some days I wake up and I think I don’t want to be king.”

They had walked along the stream, finally settling down on a log nearby. Guinevere had taken off her shoes and swirled the water with her toes. They were pretty toes. 

“But why? Think of all the good you can do as king, for your people, for your kingdom.”

Arthur remembered the sense of accomplishment he felt the evening before. Then he thought of all the other tedious things he was expected to do. “But to everyone, that is all I am - the prince. My whole life is defined by my title. Even coming here today, I had to sneak out of the castle. You, on the other hand, can be a blacksmith. Or a cook. Or a merchant. I can only be king.”

“But I will always be a commoner. And I will always be powerless and poor and dependent on my king. It is the same for everyone yet it doesn’t mean our duties or our status determine who we are.”

“Hmm.” Then he smiled at her warmly. “I like how you make me think.”

She laughed lightly before sobering. “Well, then. Here’s another thing you might want to think about. You have been born to privilege and with that comes specific obligations. Not everyone is born to such privilege as you. And you have a whole kingdom depending on you.”

He turned her to him and for a while, simply looked at her before speaking. “You might be the smartest person I know.”

Then he kissed her. 

When her lips parted and she deepened their kiss, he dragged her closer to him, pressing her body to his. And for that one moment in time, his life was perfect.

She yelped and he pulled away in shock and concern. “What?”

“Oh my shoe!” And she pointed unhappily at her shoe floating slowly away in the stream.

“I’ll get it for you,” he declared and plunged into the stream. 

“No. The rocks are -”

She didn’t finish her words but he knew exactly what she was warning him about because he slipped immediately, landing face down into the stream. 

“Oh dear, oh dear!” Guinevere rushed over to the side of the stream nearest to him and held out her arms. He ignored her, determined to rescue her shoe. But the rocks lining the bottom of the stream were slippery and he couldn’t move more than few steps without slipping.

Then he saw that Guinevere had waded in after him. Falling, laughing and screaming, the two of them finally made it out of the stream, clinging to each other. They were both soaked and caked in mud. Arthur pushed her hair from her face and grinned at her.

“Sorry. I couldn’t save your shoe.”

“It’s ok,” she giggled as she wrung her dress. “Oh dear. Florence will not be pleased. My step-mother.”

“Thank you for saving my life.”

That made her laugh again. “I did no such thing.”

“I could have drowned if it weren’t for you.”

“I doubt it. Come on. This is probably a sign we ought to be headed back.”

Arthur smiled and took her hand again. It was wet, muddy and clammy but he didn’t care.

++++

They snuck out to meet each other almost every day after that. Through her eyes, he developed a greater appreciation of his duties but most importantly, despite their different stations in life, they enjoyed each other’s company greatly. He taught her how to wield the swords she made and they spent many a mornings talking and laughing beside the stream. 

It was after one of these meetings and Arthur, in a good mood as usual, was making his way back to the castle. 

“Your father is looking for you,” one of the guards informed him as he entered. 

“Where were you? You weren’t at training. Your manservant was also nowhere to be found.”

Arthur bowed his head, hoping to appear contrite. “I’m sorry father. I went to the towns to check on the repairs.”

“That wasn’t on your schedule! But never mind. King Godwyn will be here tomorrow with his daughter and I want you around all the time. You will get to know Princess Elena and by the tournament ball, your engagement and wedding will be announced.”

All the happiness drained from Arthur. “No. No. I am not marrying a complete stranger.”

“Don’t be foolish. You have a week to get to know her. She’d hardly be a complete stranger then.”

“Father. Marriage to a complete stranger never made anyone here happy!”

“Your happiness is not the issue here.”

“I will quit the throne. Exile myself. I will not marry someone not of my choice.” For the first time, without even waiting for his father to dismiss him, Arthur stormed out of the throne room.

Merlin watched him warily as he stomped back to his room.

“Quarrel with Gwen did you? She’s usually right so I’d suggest you admit you’re wrong and apologise.”

“Shut up Merlin.” Flinging himself onto his bed, he buried his face in his pillows. Then he sat up. “Princess Elena, the lady I have been arranged to marry, is arriving tomorrow.”

“Oh.”

“Oh indeed.” Arthur sighed again. “I told my father I would rather give up the crown than marry her.”

“And how did he take it?” Merlin stopped polishing the candlestick and looked at him.

“I don’t know. I thought that was the best moment for a dramatic exit.”

“It was a good moment. Delays his blow up at you though.”

“I can just imagine that. Maybe I’ll come down with an awful cold and have to stay in bed the whole of tomorrow.”

“And the rest of the week?” Merlin asked.

“And the rest of the week.”

“Your father will just barge in here and blow up at you.”

“Shut up Merlin.”

++++

The main street was teeming with people from all around, all hoping to win the 500 gold coins up for grabs at the Royal Tournament. Usually Gwen’s interest in the many tournaments held by the castle was limited to how much business this drummed up for her smithy. But this time, things were different. The prince himself would be entering the tournament, in the category for nobles and knights and as she admitted to herself, she had recently developed a interest in him.

“You were up late again and breakfast was late as well,” snapped Rosalind. “And nowadays, you keep running off to goodness knows where. Do you perchance have a beau?”

“I don’t think this is any business of yours.”

“Not my business? This is my family too!”

“Then maybe you’d want to pull your weight in the family instead of just sitting around and ordering me about.”

Rosalind stamped her feet. “I’ll tell father of your impertinence! And he was just about to get up and take a walk.”

“Is he feeling stronger now?”

“You would know if you stayed around. And he won’t be feeling so good once he learns what a selfish brat his daughter is.”

The urge to retort was great but Gwen held her tongue. “Please Rosalind. I’m sorry I said those things. Don’t upset Dad.”

“Fine. I won’t. But you’d better make sure the dress you’re sewing for me is the most beautiful one you’ve ever done.”

“Yes Rosalind.” Just as she was about to walk away from Rosalind, Gwen remembered something. “Rosalind, did Taylor give you tickets to the tournament again this year?”

“Of course. I can’t wait till he becomes a knight and then, I can get better tickets.”

“But you never go for the tournaments. You say they are crowded and hot.”

“So?”

Gwen hated asking for favours from her step-sister but there was no way she could afford a ticket on her own. “So I thought you could let me have it.”

“You? You aren’t interested in the tournament either!”

“Maybe I am now.”

“Ha! No. I think I should go this year and find out what or who has caught your eye.” 

++++

“Psst!”

Gwen looked up from the sword she was sharpening and smiled. Standing in her doorway was Arthur.

“Do people really not recognise you in this?” She tugged at the blue cloak he wore.

“I guess not. No one has said anything. Here, I brought you tickets to the tournament. I thought maybe you and your father might want to watch it this year, if he is well enough that is.”

“Thank you. Are you busy today?”

“Guinevere, we need to talk.” His tone of voice, the seriousness in his eyes and the words themselves made her heart sink. The worst was she knew what this was about and she knew this would happen, and yet she allowed him to worm his way into her heart.

“Now?” 

He nodded. Slowly, hoping to delay the moment, she placed the sword down and led him further into the smithy. For a while, he simply held her hands, tracing patterns on her palm as he held them. 

“You once told me that being born to privilege meant that I have specific obligations.”

Not trusting her voice, she simply nodded.

“I fear that one of those obligations is that I have been … that a marriage has been arranged for me.”

What was there to say to that? And so she said nothing, casting her eyes to the floor, hoping he would not notice the tears.

“Guinevere. I am so sorry but it will benefit Camelot politically. I never meant to -”

She placed a finger on his lips, silencing him. “I understand why you have to do this. If you would excuse me, my lord, I have a lot of work to complete before the tournament starts.”

As she moved away, he held on to her arm and pulled her to him. “I love -”

“Don’t make this harder than it already is. Please.”

Briefly, his grip on her arm tightened before he let her go. “I’m sorry.”

Then she remembered something she had prepared the night before. She reached into a drawer and pulled out a piece of cloth.

“Wait. I thought that you could wear this for luck during the tournament. For old times sake.”

Arthur stopped and looked at the cloth, then back at her. For a moment, she thought he would turn her down. Then slowly, achingly, he took the cloth from her, his hand brushing hers. “Thank you.” His voice was husky, she imagined because of unshed tears like hers.

Then he leaned over and kissed her. Unlike the others they shared before, this was desperate with an edge of sadness. She knew she should push him away but she just wanted to cherish this last moment with him. 

He pulled away, brushed a curl from her face and then he was gone.

She stood in the middle of the smithy, eyes closed, feeling her heart break.

++++

“You told her what?”

“That being born to privilege came with certain obligations.”

Merlin dumped the rest of the clothes carelessly into the wardrobe and turned to the prince. “That’s complete and utter rubbish.”

“You’re out of line, Merlin.” Arthur buried his face in his hands. He really didn’t want to talk about this. It felt like his whole life was over.

“No, you are out of line. Have you any idea how much she cares for you? How much she would have given up for you?”

“What do you know about all this? You’re just a servant.”

Merlin sighed dramatically. “I know that life without love is no life at all. You are made for each other. She’s your perfect match.”

Arthur lifted his head. “I don’t know Merlin.”

“If you don’t fight for her, then you don’t deserve her.” Merlin shook his head and left the room.

Half-heartedly, Arthur tossed a mug at the door. 

An hour later, he marched to his father’s chambers. Merlin was right. He needed to fight for this.

“I’m not marrying Princess Elena.”

“I thought we had this discussion already and if I remember correctly, you agreed.”

“I was foolish.”

Uther leaned back into his chair, crossing his arms in front of him. “You need to marry. You are 21 and it’s high time you were married.”

“Then at least let me choose my own bride.”

“Elena is politically useful.”

“There is no point in her being politically useful if we are going to be unhappy. A kingdom cannot be successful if her rulers are unhappy. You loved mother. And you chose to marry her.”

Uther considered him for a while, making Arthur nervous. Then, he spoke seriously. “You have changed Arthur. For years I worried that you had no interest in running the kingdom but you have matured over the past month. In view of that, I will accede to your request. But, you have till the ball to make your choice. And I want you to give Elena a chance as well. We will announce your engagement at the ball.”

This was better than Arthur expected and he thanked his father, bowed and made to leave the room. Now all he had to do was persuade Guinevere that perhaps marrying him would not be a bad idea.

“Oh and Arthur? You can only choose your wife from those who are able to attend the ball.”

“Yes father.” This was just a minor setback, he told himself. A minor setback. Surely there would be someway to get Guinevere to the ball.

“Merlin!” He yelled as he walked back to his room. 

++++

With the arrival of the various Kings and nobles for the tournament, Arthur found himself a lot busier than he expected and he had no time to speak to Guinevere. In the end, as unsatisfactory as solution it was, he sent Merlin to speak to her. Worriedly, Merlin simply said he had informed Gwen without going into any more details.

“And which sword would you prefer Sire?” Merlin had just helped him into his armor. Out of the many swords he owned, Arthur had two or three swords he used regularly and his first instinct was to request one of them. Then, he caught sight of the sword Guinevere had made for him.

“The one Guinevere made.”

“Good choice,” teased Merlin. “Are you scared?”

Swinging the sword experimentally, he glared at Merlin. “No I’m not scared. I don’t get scared.”

That only elicited a chuckle from Merlin. By now, it was a ritual the two of them went through before Arthur entered any fight. Smacking Merlin on the shoulder, Arthur grabbed his sword and helmet and walked out into the first round of the tournament.

It wasn’t his first tournament so he was somewhat immune to the loud cheers that erupted from the stands as he appeared. Instead, he scanned the audience, desperate to see if Guinevere was there. It was crowded and just because he couldn’t see her face didn’t mean she wasn’t there. 

The bell rung and the first round started. Raising his sword, Arthur blocked the first blow to the thunderous applause of the crowd.

++++

One moment, she was hammering at a sword, tears in her eyes, cursing herself for letting her heart take over her brain. The next moment, Merlin was grinning at her and pressing an invitation to the royal tournament ball in her hand, insisting that it is crucial she turn up.

“But, I have nothing to wear and I don't understand. He's marrying some princess. It's not something I care to witness."

“I’ve heard rumours that you are as capable with a needle and thread as you are with a hammer and forge. And I believe he has decided not to marry the princess. He loves you and he needs you at the ball.” 

"I -"

"Trust me Gwen. I would never ask this of you if it wasn't important or if it would hurt you." 

“Merlin -”

“He turned down the princess. And you know why. Just come to the ball, please. Arthur needs you there.” Before she could reply, Merlin was gone.

Gwen stared at the invite, on which was printed in fancy lettering "Lady Guinevere of Ascalon". So not only would she be going to a ball, she would also be pretending to be a noble. What were Merlin and Arthur up to? 

"Hey, is my sword ready?"

Quickly, Gwen slipped the card under her pillow and rushed to the smithy, her questions forgotten for the moment as she attended to her customers. Later in the afternoon, she attended the first round of the tournament with her father, slightly thrilled that her ticket gave her access to better stands than the ones Rosalind has. She even indulged herself with a wave to her step-sister and mother from her vantage point, even though she knew she would pay for it later. But that could wait, she told herself as she waved the tiny flag that bore the Pendragon crest and cheered as Arthur advanced easily through the rounds. 

"I didn't realize you were such a big fan of the prince. I still remember you complaining about the Pendragons before.” 

Gwen smiled at her father and squeezed his hand, pleased that he was well enough to attend the tournament. “Maybe I’ve seen that in some ways, they are people like you and me.”

“Is there something you are not telling me?”

Heat rose in her cheeks and she simply smiled before pointing out that one of the men who had ordered a sword from them was fighting. 

It was late in the evening when they finally returned home. Florence and Rosalind said nothing as Gwen helped her father to bed but eyed her suspiciously. As she settled down near the kitchen, Gwen wondered how things became like that for her family. 

In the beginning, when her father and Florence married, she had been happy for her father. Her father hadn’t been really happy in a long time and to see his eyes light up when Florence was around had been a joy. But then, this didn’t last for long. 

Rosalind had always been a difficult child, not helped by the fact that Florence often accused her father and her of leaving her out - an accusation that while not completely untrue (smithing had always been a special bond between Gwen and her father, something Rosalind didn’t have) wasn’t completely true either. They tried and perhaps they didn’t try hard enough but Rosalind grew up seeing Gwen as competition. It didn’t help that the moment Gwen’s older brother, Elyan, the one person aside from her mother Rosalind was close to, was old enough, he ran off. As time passed, Gwen watched sadly as Florence and her father grew apart, both of them stressed by life.

Her mind drifted to Arthur and his invitation to the ball. What was he up to? And to be there, pretending to be someone she was not? Did Arthur want her to be someone she wasn’t? And how foolish was she to think that they even had any sort of future together? Troubled, it was a while before she fell asleep.

++++

Still undecided about the ball, Gwen nevertheless started work on a dress. Wandering around the morning market, she spotted a bolt of gorgeous lilac fabric and impulsively, she spent a good deal of her savings on it. In the mornings, she would attend the tournament, watching in fascination as Arthur easily worked his way through the many rounds. She made sure to sit in the same spot every day so he could spot her easily, nodding at her at the beginning and end of every match. In the nights, after sharpening and repairing the swords of the tournament’s competitors, she would work secretly on her dress by candlelight. 

“And so your prince has been crowned champion,” her father said mildly as they eased their way through the crowd after the final round. “You must be pleased.”

“I have no idea what you are talking about.” But there was a lightness in her voice, a combination of Arthur’s win and the fact that she had been able to spend most of the past week with her father at the tournament. She was feeling so good that she was leaning towards attending the ball.

Her father chuckled, then turned her to him. “You’re a big girl now. You should be looking to start a family of your own, not be tied to this one. Of course, not the prince. I’m just teasing you but there are many good young men in town. What about the prince’s manservant. He visits you often.”

“Dad! Merlin's just a friend."

++++

Gwen sat on the ground, one hand rubbing her ankle, the other wiping away the tears in her eyes. How many times had she cried since she met the prince? Sometimes, like now, she wished she never met him, never allowed herself to care.

“Gwen? Are you here?”

Her first instinct was to keep quiet and hope that Merlin would leave but the worry in his voice made her reply. A lantern swinging in his hand, Merlin rushed over to her.

“What happened? It’s halfway through the ball and Arthur’s heartbroken.”

“I’m not going. Tell Arthur I’m sorry. I can’t.”

“No. No. No. You have to go. You have to be there before midnight.”

“What for? So I can have a first hand look at the people I am not? So I see what I can’t have? I don’t understand Merlin. He’s promised to some princess. I’m just a blacksmith. It’s just a silly interlude -”

Merlin put the lantern down and grabbed her hands. “No. He wants you to marry him. I’m not supposed to tell you this - I guess he wanted to surprise you - but he needs you there so he can announce his intentions.”

Shocked, Gwen stared at Merlin. Marry the prince? “But what if I don’t want to?”

“You don’t?”

“I don’t know. Isn’t this quite sudden?” 

Merlin sighed and settled down on the ground next to her. “Probably but he doesn’t really have a choice. He needs to choose a bride by midnight tonight or he will marry Princess Elena.”

“And pretending that I’m a noble?”

“Only nobles are allowed at the ball. Your sister is there with your invitation card. Arthur thinks it means you don’t care for him.”

“She found it and stole it from me. She took the dress I was sewing as well. Oh Merlin, what do we do now?” Then she laughed wryly. “And I fought with her and now I have an injured ankle. I can barely walk. Maybe this is fate’s way of telling us that we’re not meant to be.”

++++

The ball was slowly winding down and there was no sign of Guinevere. Dutifully, Arthur danced with all the eligible ladies but all he could think of was her and why she didn’t turn up. She had been at every one of his tournament matches. Soon his father was going to insist that he decide on his wife and he didn’t know what he was going to do.

“It’s the last dance Arthur. Take it with Princess Elena.”

Too depressed to argue with his father, he walked to over to Elena and offered his hand. She smiled slightly and took it. 

“She’s not here?” Elena whispered as they took to the floor.

“No. I don’t know. Maybe I misread things.” 

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry for the both of us actually. Our fathers are going to pressure us into this marriage now and while it seems that I might not actually have someone, you mentioned you do? A member of your court?”

The twirled as the music demanded. “She knows I am here to be married.”

“And that’s fine with her?”

Elena simply shrugged. “It comes with the territory doesn’t it? Being a prince or princess. Arranged marriages, council meetings that don’t end, feasts simply to show how powerful you are, tournaments to demonstrate your skills.” She grinned. “No offense.”

“I don’t think she’s coming.” 

“This is the last dance. Then the ball will be over.”

He looked down at Elena. “We can’t do this. It’s stupid and ridiculous.”

“I completely agree with you.”

++++

His father was angry with him, Merlin had disappeared halfway through the ball and Guinevere apparently didn’t want anything to do with him. Arthur wondered if his life could get any more depressing. Needing some fresh air and to get away from the castle, he made his way to the gardens. 

“Arthur?” 

He must be hearing things. It sounded like Guinevere but why would she be in the royal gardens?

“Arthur?”

He turned and she was there, dressed in a pretty blue dress. In the moonlight, she looked every inch an angel and for a moment, he wondered if he was hallucinating. She walked slowly towards him. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it to the ball. My sister stole my invitation. More importantly, she stole my dress and we fought and I injured my ankle. Then Merlin came -”

“I love you.” 

That stopped her from talking and she stared at him. “I’m too late aren’t I? Merlin says you have to marry Princess Elena. I’m so sorry. I wish -” And then she was crying.

“Guinevere, no. Don’t cry. You’re going to make me cry as well.” He tugged her towards him and hugged her close. “You’re not too late. You’re not.”

“But Merlin said -” She gulped, still clinging to his shirt. “He said you had to decide who to marry by midnight and it’s way past midnight.”

“Well, yes. Except Elena and I decided that there was no reason we should force ourselves to do something we didn’t believe in. With the both of us refusing to get engaged to each other, our fathers had little choice. Also, Elena was smart enough to realise that doing this in public would mean less backlash from our fathers.”

“You told everyone at the ball that you refuse your arranged marriage?”

“Umm - Elena did. I nodded enthusiastically.” He cupped her face. “It does mean I am a free man.”

“So you are.” For the first time since she arrived, she smiled. “And it seems like I’m a free woman.”

“Mmm.”

And for a long while, there wasn’t much talking going on.

++++

Epilogue I

“I must have heard wrongly. Did you say you were engaged to the prince? The prince of Camelot, Arthur Pendragon?” Florence stood, arms crossed, frowning at Gwen.

“He asked and I said yes. So I guess so.”

Rosalind pouted. “I was all dressed up at his ball and aside from one dance, he barely gave me a second look. How did you manage this?”

“Rose,” her father said warningly. “Can we just be happy for Gwen and what this means for us?”

“It means we don’t have to worry about money,” Florence said, a smile playing on her lips. “Thomas, no more scrimping and saving for our old age.”

Gwen watched in shock as for the first time in years, Florence and her father looked affectionately at each other. And although Rosalind still glowered angrily in the background, Gwen suddenly felt hopeful that perhaps her family could work something out.

Epilogue II

“Are you sure you don’t need help with your wedding dress? I thought I did a pretty good job with the one you wore to the ball.” 

“Merlin! I’m glad you’re here. And no thank you. You couldn’t tell the difference between blue and purple.” The seamstress tutted when Gwen moved and she quickly went back to her position, allowing the seamstress to measure her. “But it was a lovely dress and very special.”

“Anyway, I’m here to tell you that Arthur is back from his patrols, safe and sound. In fact, I believe he is on his way to see you.” 

“Merlin?”

“Yes Gwen?” 

“Thank you. For everything. I don’t know how you did it - heal my father, produce a dress at the last minute, heal my ankle - but thank you.”

Merlin’s eyes softened and he leaned over and whispered into her ear. “You know it’s magic.”

“Yeah,” Gwen smiled and rolled her eyes. As much as she loved Merlin, she realised that he was a man with many secrets. “I believe you.”

Merlin left the room and it wasn’t long before Arthur entered the room, casually dismissed her seamstress and dragged her into a long kiss. 

“I’ve brought you a wedding present,” he murmured, his forehead leaning against hers.

“Oh?”

“Yes.” With a flourish, Arthur whipped out a fairly large box and passed it to her. “Open it and see if it fits.”

Slowly, Gwen lifted the lid of the box. When she saw what was inside, she couldn’t help her laughter. “Shoes?”

“Indeed. I was in a small village when I saw one of the merchants selling these. They look like the one you lost in the stream that day, don’t you think?”

She supposed if she squinted and ignored the fact that they were the wrong colour, they did but she wasn’t about to tell him that. Not when he was standing there, looking all pleased with himself. “They do.”

“Shall I?” He took the box from her, knelt down and lifted her foot, gently slipping the shoe on.

“It fits!” 

“Of course it does.” Arthur grinned up at her from the ground. “Like us.”

“Of course,” she breathed as she knelt down, uncaring that she was in her wedding dress, and kissed him.

++++

_“Why do you always have to end with kisses?”_

_“Because everybody loves kisses,” the mother laughed as she pressed a series of kisses on her son’s face._

_“Eww, no. Stop it!”_

_“Give me a kiss and I will.”_

_Reaching over, the boy gave his mother a peck on the cheek before sliding back under the covers. “Good night mother.”_

_“Good night Llacheu. Sleep well. Father will be back tomorrow from his patrols for your birthday.”_

_“Mmmm.” The boy was already half-asleep. “He promised to bring me hunting.”_

_“And he will.”_

_“And you promised me a sword,” he yawned as he snuggled into his pillow. “With a fancy hilt, like Gwydre’s.”_

_“I know sweetheart.” The mother blew off the candles, took one last look at her son before leaving the room. "And they lived happily ever after," she whispered._


End file.
